


lose your breath

by tranquilatlast



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Childhood Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Family Bonding, First Crush, Good Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, M/M, Requited Love, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranquilatlast/pseuds/tranquilatlast
Summary: Eddie says he’s the one with asthma, but Richie isn’t sure if that’s true.***Richie asks his parents why looking at his best friend makes it hard to breathe.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Maggie Tozier & Richie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Maggie Tozier/Wentworth Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 101





	lose your breath

**Author's Note:**

> super short thing i've kept to myself for a while, just to feel like i've accomplished something! puppy crushes are cute
> 
> starts off in richie's childhood, sometime in elementary school. enjoy!

Eddie says he’s the one with asthma, but Richie isn’t sure if that’s true.

It happens all the time. Richie isn’t sure how to stop it, or how to explain it, but it’s—it’s this ache in his chest. His lungs, really. He thinks maybe he rides on his bike a little too fast sometimes, or he just needs to drink more water like Stan reminds them to. Maybe it’s growing pains, the ones Bill stuttered about when they were ribbing him about how tall he’d become by the end of sixth grade.

Richie rubs a hand over his chest, staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. Could your chest have growing pains? Maybe he should ask Eddie. He knows a lot about the body or whatever, maybe he could—Shit. There it is again.

Richie winces and punches out a small, sore exhale before taking a deep breath, just like all the other times. It isn’t a sharp pain or anything, more like a… dull, uncomfortable-ness? He doesn’t know what word to use for it. Bill is better at words than he is.

It happens when he thinks, sometimes. About Eddie. Sort, angry, funny Eddie. (Richie makes sure to take a deep breath right about now.) It happens when he sees him, too, even though he’s been seeing him every single day for years.

It happened earlier today. It was especially bad this time.

They’d been at the quarry, near the shore. The cliff was too scary to jump off of just yet. He remembers the green water, the laughing and splashing, the summer sun beating down on damp hair. He remembers Eddie in his stupid-looking underwear, skinny and small and always moving, and, and… and Richie doesn’t think he should be thinking about this.

He closes his eyes to think about something else, but it has the opposite effect. Eddie’s sopping hair flopping over his forehead, his yelp when the ruined hair gel seeped into his eyes. The way he grabbed Richie’s arm when he dipped beneath the surface of the water, shaking his head. The way he came up again with squinty eyes and a twisted mouth and Richie couldn’t help but splash him.

It wasn’t the first time they’d had a splash war; it wasn’t the first time they’d done any of it. But Eddie had shrieked and splashed him right back, and basically climbed up his arm to dunk Richie. He’d laughed below the water and stopped kicking so he’d sink, and Eddie teetered off of him and into the water as well.

Richie could barely see without his glasses, much less in the murky quarry, but he could make out Eddie’s blur of a head. His cheeks puffed up, his arms suspended. He looked so blurry, and so funny.

He kicked at Richie’s leg, and Richie had to purse his lips to keep from laughing as they both rose to the surface at the same time. Eddie splashed Richie this time, but he was too busy laughing to return the favor. Then he’d opened his eyes, and Eddie was grinning. He kicked Richie again, on accident this time. Richie kicked him back.

He takes a few deep breaths as he slides off his bed and leaves his room.

“Ma?” he calls, and he hears her bickering with his dad in the kitchen. Richie follows the trail of their banter and chuckles, just in time to find Maggie slapping Went’s hand away from a bowl of apple pie filling. They look over at him when he enters.

“Hey there, honey,” she says with a smile. Went snatches a piece of apple.

“I think I have asthma,” he says. Maggie blinks.

“Well, your physical last Tuesday begs to differ,” she says, turning away for a moment to finish trimming the rest of the pie crust that hangs around the pan. Then she dusts her hands off on her apron and faces him again. “What brought this on?”

“I dunno.” He hops onto a kitchen stool, and his dad reaches for another apple slice just as his mom turns to look at him. Went quickly abandons his mission, playing innocent, and sliding over to sit on the stool next to Richie. “I’ve been having trouble breathing.”

“Oh. Are you getting sick?” Her hands are still flour-y, so Went is the one to check Richie’s temperature. The palm of his hand moves a little too quick, and Richie’s head is knocked back a centimeter. “Went, your son isn’t a bug to swat. Be gentle.”

“He can be a bug if he wants to be, dear,” Went debates. He flips his hand and hums in consideration, patting Richie’s forehead with his knuckles. “You don’t feel like you’re burning up, kiddo. Was it hard to breathe at the doctor’s?”

This is the hard part. Explaining. Richie’s face screws up and he bends forward to rest his head in crossed arms. His parents watch patiently, Maggie keeping an eye on him as she pokes holes into the pie crust with a fork.

“Well… I mean, ‘s been for a while now. It just happens sometimes,” Richie explains.

“Do you know why it happens?” Maggie prompts. Richie nods with the maximum solemnity an eleven year old could have.

“Yes,” he says. His parents look at each other when he doesn’t elaborate.

“And why’s that, bud?” Wentworth prompts further, a little amused.

“Eddie. He makes it hard to breathe,” he says.

“I thought you liked Eddie,” Maggie says.

“I do,” he confirms, making a face like it’s obvious.

“Then why does he make it hard to breathe?” Went asks.

“I don’t know,” Richie admits. Eddie just does. “I see him, or he talks to me, and it just gets hard to breathe. What am I supposed to know about breathing? I’m no expert.”

“Don’t be harsh on yourself. You’re great at breathing,” his dad assures him. Maggie gives Went a look, and Went purses his lips to hide a smile.

“Honey,” Maggie starts, putting the fork down and gliding to the sink to wash her hands. Over her shoulder, she says, “Does looking at Eddie make you lose your breath?”

“I guess,” Richie says. He kicks the counter idly, only because staying still for so long is making him a little restless.

“Would you say he... takes your breath away?” Went asks, brows raising expectedly.

“I… guess?” Richie says, squinting at his father behind thick glasses. Went's brows continue to rise. His dad is so weird. “You’ve got apple in your mustache, Pa.”

“Who doesn’t?” Went brushed the back of his hand over his mustache, but the apple crumb stays there. It isn’t the best look on him, but Richie decides it’ll be funnier not to help him.

“Richie,” Maggie calls, moving to the counter to take his hand. Her grip is cool from the tap, and smooth from the soap. “Dear. What you’re feeling… I don’t think it’s anything you should worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Richie sits up a bit straighter to look at his mom from an angle easier on the neck. At his side, his dad leans into the counter. “Why not?”

“Because you’re only eleven, honey, and… Well, your feelings aren’t bad, I can tell you that,” she assures him, sandwiching his palm between her own. “I can promise you, in fact. They’re just not something you should be worried about at this age.”

“But what if I stop breathing?” Richie starts to worry. He looks from his mom, to his dad, and back again. “I can barely breathe around him. What if I stop one day?”

“Then start up again, son! You’ve gone this long, haven’t you?” Went exclaims, propping his cheek up as he rests his right elbow on the counter. With his free hand, he pokes Richie’s nose. Maggie squeezes Richie’s hand a little to get his attention.

“Two things, then. I can promise your feelings aren’t bad,” she lets go of his hand to raise a pinky instead, smiling again, “and I can promise you, you’ll keep on breathing.”

“Double-promise,” Richie says, brows furrowed. Maggie holds out her other pinky finger, and Richie barely thinks before hooking them with both of his own. “Okay, Ma. I’ll take your double-promise.”

“No promise for me?” Went asks, and Maggie looks up at him over her son.

“You can promise not to eat half my pie filling every time I bake,” she offers.

“Ah,” Went sighs. “That's a no, then."

***

Eddie’s cursing at the board, tapping his little car piece on each square a little too harshly. He’s sat up in his hospital bed, his heart monitor keeping a steady beat even as he works himself up over Richie buying out a Railroad within the first ten minutes of playing.

“Fucking idiot, fucking boardgame players,” Eddie grumbles as he lands on an orange lot. He tosses money to his empty lunch tray, which they’d both deemed the bank.

“Don’t blame me for being a boardgamer,” Richie says, cracking his knuckles unnecessarily before snatching up both dice. “Blame yourself for being a noob.”

“I understood none of what you just said. Roll the dice already.” The patch on Eddie’s cheek shifts a little with his scowl, and Richie snickers as he shakes the dice in his fist.

“Come on, Waterworks!” he urges, dropping them. They tumble to a halt, and Richie cheers when he gets the numbers he needs. He makes his dog piece trot happily across the board.

“Don’t cut through the middle of the board, asshole!” Eddie demands.

“Why not? Shortcut,” Richie defends with a grin.

He revels in his best friend’s aggravated noise, and the way Eddie throws both arms upwards in exasperation. He’s always mindful of the bandages across his middle, but Richie is extremely tempted to tickle this guy right now.

“You can’t do shortcuts in Monopoly. It’s a boardgame.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You have to count the spaces!”

“I did count the spaces! I needed seven spaces, and the die gave me seven spaces.”

“Since when can you cut through the middle of Monopoly, you stupid fucking—” Eddie’s hands are twisted into Richie’s collar before he knows it, and he laughs all the way to Eddie’s lips until he's muffled with them. Richie’s head is forced up at an odd angle, but he slides his arms around the man’s waist and melts into the feeling of his soft mouth all the same.

“Mm, I like sore loser Eddie,” he mumbles, trying to lean in further, but then Eddie’s scoffing into his mouth and Richie's cracking up again. His glasses are a little askew when he pulls away, but he’s able to see the corners of Eddie’s mouth turn up.

“You’re not funny,” Eddie claims, even though his expression says very much otherwise. He lets go of Richie’s collar and smooths it out instead. Before he can take his hands back, Richie takes his wrists and keeps Eddie’s palms flat on his covered collarbones.

“What’ll it take to get me another one of those?” He wiggles his brows suggestively. Eddie snorts and flexes his fingers, letting Richie’s hands follow him as his palms trail upwards to cup his jaw. Richie’s adam’s apple bobs beneath his thumbs.

“Give me your salary on the next Go,” Eddie bargains, and wiggles his own eyebrows.

“My kisses are worth two-hundred Monopoly Bucks to you?” Richie asks. Eddie frowns.

“They’re not called Monopoly Bucks.”

“Not with that attitude they’re not. Kiss me, you capitalist trash.”

“Bold words from someone who just called himself a ‘boardgamer’,” Eddie counters without heat, pulling him in gently. Richie follows faster than Eddie leads, and he can barely swipe the smile from his face before their lips slot together again.

The kiss lasts so long, his lungs ache with it—he doesn’t ever want to break for air.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! have a nice school year everyone!!
> 
> feel free to check out my twitter: [@kaspbrave](https://twitter.com/kaspbrave?s=09)


End file.
